To Remember Us

         I sit on a branch in a tall oak tree and look through the window of the coffee shop across the street. I ignore all around me, the whispers in the gusting wind, the smell of the metallic red life force that emits from the passersby. My only focus is her. I watch her move from table to table taking orders, and laughing with co-workers inside. My predator eyes follow each time she steps out to take a break. I know her routine by heart. First, she sits at the table outside and has a cup French Vanilla coffee. I can always smell the freshly brewed coffee from my perch. Then, she smokes a half of a cigarette. She only smokes half because she is trying to quit. I know because since the first time I saw her, she has become a part of me. Her almond shaped eyes, the curve of her nose, her smile were all familiar to me. They were me. I had become obsessed with her. The reflection that I saw of myself in her made me want to reach out and feel her to see if she was actually real.
         Some nights my gaze was too focused. Sometimes we connected. She would turn and look in my direction, as if she were searching for something. Sometimes she appeared to be looking directly at me but if she knew I was there she never made it known. I decided that I cared for her even though my vampire nature told me to kill her. But my emotions and my link to her overrode the blood lust. My mind ached to know her, to see my likeness looking back at me face to face.
         So again, tonight like every other night, for weeks now, I watch her. She is closing up the coffee shop now, locking the glass doors. I expect her to climb into her ‘94’ Buick but she changes her routine. Instead, she heads towards the group of trees across the street from the coffee shop. She heads towards me. My entire body tenses. My blood charges through my veins with manic speed. My nails dig into the brittle bark of the oak tree, steadying me, preventing me from acting with out thinking. Was I ready to know her?
         She strolls over until she is directly underneath me in the tree. It is dark but she seems to look straight at me. She peers up for a few minutes. If I were breathing I would have been holding my breath.
         She finally speaks. “I know you're there.” She says simply. Her voice sings in my ears like a familiar tune. We even sound alike.
         I contemplate on whether or not I should say anything. I'm not I ready for her to see me, to know me, to know what I am. She relieves me from the pressure of speaking, temporarily.
         “I’m sure we’ve met before. Do you know me?” She again waits for an answer I'm not ready to give. “I think I know you. At least it feels like it.” She sits down under the tree. “Everyday I feel you watching me. You know how you can feel eyes on you sometimes. I thought I was crazy at first. I thought it was some kind of pervert ogling me with his creepy eyes but after awhile I realized that the feeling wasn’t threatening at all. It felt kind of familiar.”
         She stops talking. My mouth attempts to move but no words come out. My body is frozen in place. I can do nothing but listen and watch. I hear her rhythmic breath vibrating through her lungs. I watched her delicate fingers fiddle with the chartreuse blades of grass beneath her. I hold my hand in front of me imitating her movements. They resemble mine.
         She suddenly gets up.
         “I found this picture a few days ago.” She pulls out a photo from her purse.
         “Mom had it hidden in some boxes in the basement of her house. I guess she figured I would never look through them. I bet she never thought a pair of my favorite earrings would fall into those boxes one day. I have to say I was more than a little freaked out when I found it but then I thought about you, the one who watches me and it clicked.” She holds the picture up in the air as if she is trying to give me a better look.
         I see four images, two look identical.
         “Is this our dad?” She asked. Her question doesn’t shock me. It only sparks a twinge of excitement to something I already know without really knowing. She continues. “Because this is me and this is mom and this…is you,” she points to one of the four year old girls sitting on the man’s lap in the photo. “It says here, on the back, your name is Monica. I’m Monique. I’m not sure if you knew that.”
         I do.
         “And it says our father’s name is David. I assume you’ve been with him for most of your life. I guess our parents took a page from ‘The Parent Trap’.” I hear her laugh a little. It is a solemn sound. “Do you know mom’s name? It’s Kelly, just in case you didn’t know.” She stuffs the photo back in her purse. “I just wanted you to know that I know you are watching me and that I wish you wouldn’t hide. I want to see you.” Her eyes focus on me in the dark, as if she knows exactly where I am. She waits for a response but I have none at the moment.
         “Well, I guess I’ll be leaving now.” She turns to walk away. But I can’t let her.
         “Are you sure?” My shaking voice echoes through the air.
         She spins around quickly. “Yes,” she expresses with a smile on her face.
         I jump out of the tree and breeze by her unseen. I appear behind her. She doesn’t see me until I tap her on her shoulder. As she turns and looks at me, her expression quickly turns in to a look of puzzlement. “How’d you do that?” She questioned.
         I don’t answer her. I too have a questioning look on my face.
         Is this what I would look like if I were still mortal?
         She is so vigorous, and alive. I raise my hand to her face. Her skin is soft and warm against my cold fingertips. I can hear her heart hurl her blood through her veins as I brush her cheek, her hair, and her neck. The smell of coffee grounds and sweet pastries mixed with her scent of dried roses. She pulls my hand away from her face and releases it by my side.
         “Are you sick? Your skin is pale and you’re so cold. And your eyes.”
         I turn my eyes away from her. “Not exactly.”
         She lifts my chin looking directly in to my cherry red irises. “No, you’re not sick. You’re,”
         I say it before she can. “A vampire.”
         “A vampire,” she says like an echo.
         “How did you know?”
         She shrugs her shoulders, “Mom is always going on about crosses and holy water. She puts garlic in everything. She even married a pastor of a church. She never came right out and said she was doing it because of vampires but seeing you now, it all makes sense.”
         “You’re not scared?” I brace myself for her answer.
         “A little.” Her eyes tell me she is more than a little scared, but she stays nonetheless.
         “She never told you about me?” I ask.
         She shakes her head no.
         “Did he ever tell you about me?”
         “No,” I say.
         “Is he a vampire too?”
         “Since I can remember. He never spoke of being human. He never spoke of the change. He just always was.”
         “Have you always been a vampire?”
         “I was changed when I was 17.”
         “That was seven years ago. You wanted to be this way?” She gives me a look of disbelief.
         Her displeased expression causes me flinch. A twinge of disappointment runs through me. “It is the only way that I know.” I say defending myself.
         The crickets and cicadas sing in between our silence.
         “When I was younger, about eight years old, I use to have this dream where I am playing at the playground. I am on the seesaw and at the other end is another little girl who looks exactly like me. I told mom one time that I had a twin sister that visits in my dreams. She cried and told me that’s all it was, a dream.”
         “Father said the same when I told him about my dreams as well. I have to admit, he doesn’t know that I have found you. I hardly see him anymore since I’ve been changed.”
         “Mom doesn’t know about me finding the picture. If she knew I was here with you she would probably outfit my apartment with crosses and garlic.”
         “That doesn’t work.”
         “What, the crosses or the garlic?”
         “The garlic.”
         “Good to know.” She steps closer to me. “Can I see your teeth?”
         I comply and open my mouth exposing my sharp fangs. My mind races as she examines me. Is this a mistake or is it fate? How would my life be different if I had grown up with her, if we were both human…both vampires?
         “Yeah, you’re a vampire alright.” She takes a few steps back. Her heart rate accelerates. “Look, I gotta go. Umm, I need to ask you a favor. Now that I know you exist I’m not sure how I feel about it. I mean, it’s hard enough knowing that I have a long lost twin sister but,”
         I cut her off. “You don’t have to explain.” I hold my hand up stopping her excuses.
         “I don’t want to upset up or anything, trust me I don’t, but you’re a vampire.”
         “And you’re mortal.” I finish for her.
         She takes the photo out of her purse again, and tears it in half. She hands me the half with her and mother. “To remember us.” She says before she sprints to her car.
         As I watch her hurry into her car and speed down the street I am tempted to follow her home but the growing thirst for human blood overwhelms me. It reminds me no matter how much I long for my other half, we are too different and no matter how much I want to know her I could never be a part of her life the way I want to.